


Beauty on the Inside

by tatteredspider



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Graphic Description of Injuries, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Please read with caution, it's not pretty, non-graphic depiction of physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 23:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15918627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatteredspider/pseuds/tatteredspider
Summary: Dorian Pavus owns his own interior design and decor business with his partner, Rilienus. But there are some serious problems, not the least of which is Rilienus stealing from the company and abusing Dorian. And Dorian is so far gone down the rabbit hole that he doesn't even realize just how bad it really is.Then the Iron Bull and Chargers Renovations step in to hire his design services and Dorian's life takes a giant leap sideways.





	Beauty on the Inside

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!! Dorian is in an extremely abusive relationship. And like many abuse victim, it's not just a physical issue, but emotional and mental as well, until he truly believes that the abuse is of his own making. I tried very hard not to be too graphic, and did not describe the worst of the attacks, but there's still a lot in here that could be triggering to some readers. Please please please use caution.
> 
> This is NOT a fic in which Dorian and Bull ride off into the sunset, but Dorian does get a happy...ish ending. I have given this fic a Mature rating for the abuse, not for anything sexual.

Dorian Pavus straightened the collar and cuffs of his black silk dress shirt and sighed. He really did not want to meet with this last client today, the night before catching up with him, but he had never rescheduled a first client's meeting and he wasn't about to start now. Especially for a reason as ridiculous as being sore.

            Checking himself once again in the little mirror of the powder room he decided that he was at least looking acceptable. His hair was perfectly gelled in place, moustache waxed and immaculate. His eyes were lined just enough to bring out the silver of his eyes, accented with a light dusting of gold powder that was only really visible at just the right angle. His shirt was perfectly pressed, the french cuffs held with small gold links engraved with twining snakes, and his pants were creased as though they had just been pressed. Everything was perfectly placed upon his body to accentuate his assets, and to hide the activities of the night before.

            One more quick twitch and he turned from the room, just in time to hear the bell of the door. “All right, Dorian. You can handle this last client before he gets home. Nothing to be concerned about.” A lie, if he ever told one, of course. Taking a deep, calming breath, Dorian answered the door, only to gasp at the man standing on the stop.

            A Qunari. And not just any Qunari, but the largest, most exceptional looking Qunari he had ever seen. Not that he'd seen many, mind you, but he'd seen his fair share, he was certain.

            Seven feet tall if he was an inch and nearly as broad, with a set of horns that flared out the width of his shoulders like a prized steer. What he could see of his skin- not covered by a frighteningly loud floral print button-up and clashing striped pants that belonged covering a circus act- was scarred, his left eye gone completely and covered with a heavily tooled leather patch. Dorian might have begun laughing hysterically if it weren't for the genuine smile the man wore, lighting up his other hazel eye in a genuine way that Dorian hadn't seen in years.

            “Hey,” the big man said, reaching out a hand that was larger than his head. “Pavus, right? I'm Ashkaari Hisraad. But I go by the Iron Bull.”

            Dorian returned the shake. “I can see why.” Then he blushed just as he had done as a fresh-faced teen.

            The Iron Bull barked out a laugh as Dorian moved to allow the man into his office. “No problem, I get that a lot. Nice place, by the way. Surprised you work out of your home, though.”

              Dorian smiled at that, switching himself back into what he called 'salesman mode', motioning for the man to take a seat and thanking the Maker that he had replaced the client chairs that used to be there for ones with a lower back and wider seat. The Iron Bull probably would have broken the tiny show pieces he had had until last week. “Yes, well, what better way to show how a sketch can turn into a proper room than to present them in a lived-in setting.

            The Iron Bull rubbed at the tip of his chin, humming under his breath. “Yeah, I can see that. Makes sense I guess.”

            Dorian sat across from his client, placing his hands flat together and resting his chin against his fingertips, carefully keeping his cuffs from sliding down as he did. “Now, then, what exactly are you looking for Messere Hisraad.”

            The Iron Bull reached into a deep pants pocket and pulled out a series of maybe two dozen photos, interior and exterior shots of what could almost be described as a castle. It was a three-storey edifice in old grey stone obviously in need of some serious renovations. With an upturned eyebrow and nod of the head, Dorian reached over and brought the photos towards him and perused each one. The bones of the building were sound, he could see right away, though the stone facade was beginning to crumble badly. There was no landscaping done, the best he could say about it being that nothing was overgrown, if only because there was nothing at all. But he was more interested in the interior shots.

            By the looks of it the last renovation of the property had taken place in the seventies, full of oranges, browns, and most likely some terrible asbestos. But the bones of the house, the layout and structuring looked sound. And there were still small examples of the original decor expressed with Victorian cornices, dark wood baseboards, and marble mantles over the fireplaces that were in almost every room.

            “All right, Messere Hissrad, what exactly are you looking for today?” Dorian asked, straightening the photos into a pile to hand back tot he Qunari.

            “Keep the pics, I got plenty,” he said, dismissing them with a wave. “I'm owner of Charger's Renos. We had to take a client to court over payment and somehow, in lieu of payment, the courts agreed with the client signing over another one of his properties to us.” The Iron Bull shifted a little, looking a slightly uncomfortable. Dorian wondered if the chairs were a bad choice after all. “We decided that, instead of selling, we'd take the house on as a showcase project- kinda like you do here, I guess- and some of us would move in 'cause they're kinda couch surfing at the moment.”

            Dorian smiled. He understood that to be certain. When he first came to Fereldan and settled in Haven, he had been forced to rent a room from a lumberjack of a man who sported a beard that Dorian swore was sentient. Blackwall had been a nice enough man in his way but Dorian had a certain standard when it came to hygiene and comportment that the man failed horribly to meet.

            “While me and my boys are great for all the hands-on stuff, and my business partner is an award-winning landscape designer, none of us are good at the interior design stuff. We'd probably be good with beige paint and furniture from the thrift store.”

            Dorian shuddered at the thought and the Iron Bull chuckled. “Don't worry, Big Guy. We'll refrain from buying anything too tacky.”

            Dorian was no reassured.

            “All right, Messere Hissrad-”

            “The Iron Bull.”

            Dorian paused at the interruption. “I'm sorry?”

            “I prefer the Iron Bull while not in Par Volen or Seheron,” he replied, reminding the Tevinter that he, too, was a Northerner living in the South. “Just Bull is fine.”

            “All right, Bull. Now, what kind of budget are you thinking of working with?”

            “Well, we'll be doing all the construction work ourselves and supplies are wholesale so that'll help with costs, so I could probably put together a budget of around a million Sovereigns.”

            Dorian froze in his seat. A million! He had never had a budget so high, even when decorating their house. Bull, misjudging why Dorian froze, jumped in. “I can get more later on in the project since we'll be doing other jobs at the same time.”

            Dorian shook himself, returning to the matter at hand. “Not to worry. That's something we can discuss after I've seen the property first hand. Now, can I ask how you came across my name?”

            “Yeah, Ma'am recommended you.” Dorian looked at him quizzically. “Oh! Madame de Fer. Ma'am showed me the office and dining room you redid for her and I was impressed.”

            Dorian preened slightly at the compliment, smiling fondly at the recollection of Madame de Fer. She had been terrible to work with, most Orlesians were, but at least she had had wonderful taste and let him do his work almost carte blanche. That she had recommended him to another was a nice surprise. “How do you know Madame de Fer?” he asked.

            “We were hired to renovate her summer home in Val Chevin. Nice lady, kinda reminds me of the Tamassrins I grew up with.”

            Dorian had no idea what a Tamassrin was but given his experiences with Vivienne de Fer, he really didn't want to find out. “Well, I'll have to give her a thank you bottle of wine,” he said with a small smile. “Now, before either one of us come to an agreement, I think I should come out to see the property, don't you?”

            The Iron Bull grinned widely, almost as though he had won the lottery. “Yeah, that'd be great! We're gonna be starting demo next week so you'll probably want to take a peek before that. You okay to come out on the weekend? Or maybe Monday and we can hold off til you come by.”

            Dorian flipped open his day timer, though he knew without really looking that both his Monday and Tuesday were fairly filled up with final walk throughs with clients. “No, the weekend will be fine. Perhaps Sunday if you aren't too busy? I can come by after lunch and we can walk through the property. I would need to take measurements and photos of my own for reference.”

            “Yeah, Sunday would be fine. I usually meet up with the Chargers to watch whatever's playing on the screens at The Herald's Rest but I can skip a weekend, no problem.”

            Dorian nodded and scribbled a few notes in his day timer, adding the address the Iron Bull gave him. This would be a major boost for him, some serious Sovereigns in his account. Maybe enough to-.

            “I'm home!” a deep voice barked and Dorian flinched. _Kaffas! He had been certain he had more time!_ “My apologies, Messere Hiss- Bull. I will be but a moment.”

            Dorian stood and quickly made his way past a slightly concerned Iron Bull to attempt to calm the man storming his way towards the office.

            Rilienus Aquius was probably one of the most outwardly beautiful men that Dorian had ever met, and that was including himself. His skin was the colour of melted caramel, flawless and shining even in the deepest winter cold. He wore his Antivan Brandy coloured hair long in a loose tail at the base of his neck and his eyes were the colour of ocean waves, a shade rarely seen in the far North of Tevinter. The man kept his body in peak physical condition and only the most luxuriant fabrics adorned his sculpted form. Yes, on the outside he was an Adonis.

            On the inside, however, Dorian was learning that Rilienus Aquius was a monster.

            “What the fuck, Dorian,” the man growled menacingly, reaching out to grab his boyfriend roughly about the upper arm. “I'm fucking starving and nothing's done. This place is a fucking pig sty, you lazy bitch!”

            “Ri, please, I have a client! I'm very sorry to be so far behind!” Which was total bullshit, of course. The maid service had been through earlier that morning for their weekly visit, and while it was true that there was no food as yet, they had made plans to go out that night so it hadn't been necessary.

            “Get him out. I'm home now.” The menace in Rilienus' voice was bone shaking and the last thing Dorian wanted was to make things worse. “Of course, of course. Give me a moment to see the man out and then I will take you anywhere you want to go.”

            The other man just glared at Dorian then turned on his heel to return to the living room area where they kept the wet bar. Which for Dorian meant that the other man would either get himself plastered and pass out, or just more angry and more likely to swing fists first, ask questions never. Dorian knew exactly what he was hoping for, but rarely ever had his wishes come true. He'd have to deal with that quickly, but first...

            “Everything all right, here?” a deep voice said over his shoulder and Dorian spun quickly in surprise. He hadn't heard the giant of a man leave the office.

            “Yes, yes, of course,” he tried to reassure, somewhat breathless and shaking. “My partner has returned for the day and our office hours are now closed. Why don't I walk you out?”

            Dorian managed to get the man turned and heading out the office door towards his vehicle, which was apparently an oversized pick up truck with a large enough cab to accommodate the Qunari's massive rack of horns. “I know it's not really any of my business, but are you sure you'll be okay?”

            Dorian froze. Oh, how he wanted to say no. To tell someone else about everything he was going through. But no. No one would help him, some nasty assed gay man from the dreaded North. Not even a giant Qunari with horrible fashion sense. He straightened himself and looked the Iron Bull dead in the eye, praying that his trembling wasn't so very noticeable. “I will be just fine, thank you Messere Hissrad. I will meet you Sunday at the property, at one o'clock precisely.”

            The Iron Bull paused before taking the hand Dorian held out for him to shake. “All right, Messere Pavus. I'll see you then.” 

 

 

            The Iron Bull sat in his truck cab for what felt like hours, though it was really no more than minutes. That was so not good. Not Dorian, of course, Dorian was amazing. He was talented, and obviously smart. And amazingly gorgeous. But he'd seen the bruises that lined his wrists right away and after seeing his partner, Bull was feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

            His first instinct was to scoop up the 'Vint and run far away with him. When the other man had come in the house, Dorian's entire body tensed. Bull could even hear the man's heart stutter and smell his sudden terror. He hadn't seen such a visceral reaction in someone since Seheron. And didn't that just push all sorts of buttons in his psyche.

            But Bull couldn't interfere, not yet anyway. More than likely, if he tried, Dorian would run the other way, right back into the arms of his abuser. No, with luck Dorian would keep his appointment on Sunday and maybe, just maybe he could talk to him then.

 

 

             

            Dorian flipped down the car's visor to check his make up one more time before exiting the vehicle. Once upon a time he would have been chauffeured around town, but these days it was him doing the driving in an older model Nissan. At least he kept it fastidiously clean and the tank topped up. Getting his license had been a horror that he refused to ever think about again, the young elvehn girl he had taken instruction with being...well, frightening, really. But Sera was a wild spirited girl and in time they had ended up becoming fast friends. Well, until recently. She despised Rilienus and so he rarely saw her anymore. He missed her.

            He nodded to himself, glad the concealer he had splurged on seemed to be doing its job. Rilienus had been...a little rough the other day and unfortunately had left a few marks above the collar this time. At least he had kept his lover from doing it while the Iron Bull was still in the office. Dorian desperately needed the Qunari as a client if he was to have any chance of buying out Rilienus' half of the business and moving out.

            Satisfied that every mark was covered, Dorian exited the lingering cold of the car's air condition to step into the sweltering July heat. Normally he reveled in this sort of weather but the humidity in the air could just fuck right off. It was almost like walking through a steam bath, and the sweat was already pooling up on his forehead. Dorian sighed in disgust at the whole endeavour.

            Of course, it didn't help that the address the Iron Bull gave him was in an open area that, at one point was slated to become another of the multitude of subdivisions in the area, only for the builder to go bankrupt after the ground had been cleared. No shade for nearly a mile in any direction, just the old manor home that sat in the middle of nothing.

            “Dorian!” a deep, booming voice called out, causing Dorian to cringe, pulling in to himself and leaning against the car. _Kaffas_! That scared the shit out of him! His breath froze in his lungs, his heart skipped several beats and he began to lightly shake. _No, stop this! You are better than this. Rilienus is not here, it's only the Iron Bull._

            With a visible effort, Dorian straightened himself and righted his shirt cuffs before turning to face his prospective new client. _You can do this. You_ have _to do this._

            The Iron Bull stuttered to a halt when he saw Dorian curl in on himself when he called. _Shit! That was so not a good sign._ But then the designer collected himself and turned to give the Bull a dazzling smile that the Qunari knew had to be a lie. Even from this far he could smell the faint odour of blood on the man's skin, though more than likely he was no longer bleeding. There was also the distinct scent of high end make up, something Bull had come across on more than one occasion from dates. But when they met earlier in the week, Bull had noted that Dorian had near flawless skin that certainly would not need that kind of cover up.

            _Vashedan_! It was going to take every ounce of self-control not to ask about the bruises he knew were under the make up. But he couldn't do that, it might cause more harm than good. If there was one thing that he had learned in his time in Seheron was that victims of repeated assault were more likely to run to the devil they know, than to a possible future that theoretically could end up worse. No, the best he could do right now was to remain upbeat and friendly, and slowly earn the man's trust.

            “Good afternoon, the Iron Bull,” the man said with a strained smile and a wave, stepping away from the safety of his vehicle to approach the Qunari and, ostensibly, the house behind him. “It's certainly an... interesting property, isn't it?”

            Bull turned and looked at the house. Yeah, the way it sat right now it was quite the eyesore. Three storeys of crumbling grey brick with a Victorian flair buried underneath. No grass, no trees, nothing but a few sporadic weeds to suggest any kind of landscaping, and the wooden wrap-around porch looked to have been gnawed to the bone by termites at some point years before. But he could see her potential beneath all of that. Strip off all the brick, reinforce the original struts of the structure then clapboard and gingerbread in a colour reminiscent of the jelly bean houses you find along the Amaranthine coast of Fereldan. Admittedly those homes were much smaller but he had always loved the vibrancy of those homes and wanted one for him and his team.

            Bull motioned for Dorian to follow then lead the way around to the back door of the property where the footing was a little sturdier. The front porch was pretty but only if you didn't step on it. Otherwise it was a death trap.

            “Can I ask why the house is even still standing?” Dorian asked, taking another look around the land before entering the house behind Bull. “Everything else had been bulldozed, why not the house?”

            Bull chuckled, holding the door for the other man. The spring on the back door was a bitch and liked to slam the door with the smallest of provocations. Wouldn't want the door to literally smack Dorian on the ass on the way in. “Historical Society. They fought tooth and nail for the place to e declared a historical landmark so it couldn't be destroyed, but when it came time to actually take care of the place they turned tail and made a run for it.”

            Dorian snorted. “Yes, I've had my own run ins with those particular fools. I had to file permit after permit after permit just to replace a fireplace facade that was literally crumbling at their feet. The client had to pay out more money in permits than to replace the brick. It was ridiculous!”

            “Try talking to Gary, upstairs in the planning office. His ex-brother-in-law is on the Historical Society and he'll clear all sorts of red tape to stick it to the guy.”

            The snort of laughter that came from between Dorian's fingers as he tried to contain his mirth was a wonderful thing to behold, and the Iron Bull found himself smiling wide eyed at how heart stoppingly beautiful it was. Just...wow. After a few moments the 'Vint looked around the vestibule they had entered, eyes still sparkling with mirth, not that that lasted long.

            “All right, Bull, walk me through this bloody crime scene.”

            Bull looked around with a renovators eye and could understand where the man was coming from. “Okay, well, this is something like a mudroom here, but the boys and I are thinking of tearing down this wall and expanding the kitchen in behind.” They stepped through a small doorframe into a larger room that could be called a kitchen only in that it had correct plumbing pipes coming out of the wall. It had been stripped bare of any appliances, cupboards, even the sink, with heavily water damaged plaster walls.  It's only real redeeming feature was a large fireplace that looked like it could almost be it's own cooking area.

            Dorian was looking at that fireplace with a speculative glint in his eye. “So, everything in this room is being gutted?”

            “Why? You want to keep something?” he replied, although he already pretty much knew what Dorian was thinking.

            “Yes. Please do nothing to that fireplace until after I've been able to show you my preliminary sketches. You'll have to test it's integrity of course, safety first after all. But with a bit of work you could use that to save on heating costs during the winter months as well as retro fit it to work as a brick pizza or bread oven. Assuming, of course, that that is something you would be interested in.”

            Bull smiled, thinking about his site manager and the man's love of all things pizza. “Yeah, we can do that. And if it's not feasible to keep this one, we might be able to build a new one in the same style.”

            “Hmmm.” Dorian chewed on the end of his thumb for a moment and didn't that just do some disturbing things to Bull's insides, before asking if it was possible to start taking photographs of the space. The Iron Bull assented and Dorian pulled out a small digital camera and set his phone to take dictation. After taking at least a dozen photos of the room, he traded his camera for a tape measure and verbally recorded the dimensions of the room.

            Bull, on the other hand, just watched him move methodically around the room, like some kind of hunting panther or something. He was freaking gorgeous, and impossible to tear his eyes away from.

             Eventually Dorian finished up and they moved on to the rest of the house. On the main floor was a general living space, parlour, a massive dining room, and powder room, as well as the spaces they had entered by and a front entry hall with a wide staircase leading up to the second floor. The flooring in the entry was some miraculously intact Travertine marble that Dorian insisted had to remain as is or he would sic the Historical Society on Bull which had the giant man laughing and begging for mercy.

            The second floor contained what would have been the family quarters, a total of six bedrooms, three of which sported their own fireplaces. Bull hoped that at least one of them would be salvageable as he had plans involving the rug of a Great Bear and a roaring fire by the time winter came around. Two of the bedrooms were also equipped with ensuite bathrooms while the other four were connected to something he’d only ever come across here in the South called a Jack and Jill bathroom- basically connecting bathrooms between two bedrooms. He though the whole thing was kind of cool and Bull had every intention of adding every upgrade he could to each one. Starting with Qunari-sized bathtubs and showers.

            Then there was the third floor, once upon a time the servants’ quarters and access to the Widow’s Walk. The rooms here were more plentiful- eight in all- but much smaller with only the one communal bathroom for the floor. These rooms would remain sleeping quarters for the guys with The Bull and his site manger, Krem, taking larger rooms on the second floor. Some of the second-floor bedrooms would most likely be opened up to be changed into a relaxing space, a game room or something along those lines.

Bull and Dorian discussed the logistics of moving walls and how many bodies they would need to accommodate, what would and would not be remaining behind after demolition in a couple of days. Photos, measurements, and notes on preferred colours and surfaces were all taken while the two wandered from room to room until Dorian’s phone chimed and the ‘Vint suddenly became very tense.

“You okay there, Dorian?” Bull asked, knowing that the true answer was an obvious no.

“Yes, yes,” he dismissed the question with a wave. “I just have another appointment and I’m afraid I need to cut this meeting short.”

The Iron Bull fought the urge to snort with derision. Nobody went from zero to sixty on the tension scale that quick for a simple meeting. He would bet his annual dispensation of maraas-lok that the message that came in was from Dorian’s…boyfriend? Husband? Fuck, he didn’t even know. “All right, well let me walk you to your car and maybe you can give me a call when you’ve finished some preliminary sketches for me to look at.”

Dorian smiled and agreed heartily. That really pretty smile that made the Qunari want to kneel at his feet. The sketches could look like total shit at this point and Bull was fairly certain that he would hire Dorian for his smile alone.

 

 

 

Dorian sat in his car for a few moments, staring at nothing and letting the chill of the air conditioner creep over him. His phone felt like it was burning a hole through the pocket of his pants, the message repeating over and over again in his head. ‘What did you forget this morning, Dorian?’

His hands shook as he reached up to take a hold of the wheel, racking his brain over what he possibly could have forgotten. He was certain he had made the bed, tidied the kitchen, started the laundry, got dinner set up in the crock pot for later this evening. It was Sunday so there was no mail to pick up, no client meetings, no wholesaler calls to make. He just didn’t know, couldn’t think of what he could have possibly forgotten no matter how he wracked his brain. Well, there was nothing for it. He was just going to have to go home and face the music from Rilienus.

The drive home was nerve wracking as he struggled not to shake so badly that he drove off the road. What did he forget? What could he have possibly forgotten? He was so careful, so meticulous, about every little thing to keep Rilienus content and quiet, if only because it took so little to set him off. And it was always Dorian’s own fault when things went wrong and Rilienus had to show him the error of his ways. It’s why Dorian wanted to get enough money to buy Rilienus out and move on, so that Rilienus could get on with having a better life without him.

His neighbourhood, when he pulled into the driveway miraculously without causing a serious accident, was as it always is on a sunny summer Sunday. There were a group of children up the street screaming as they ran through a sprinkler. The next-door neighbours were hosting a barbecue by the look of it, several cars in the drive and the smell of roasting beef wafting through the air. It was nice, very Fereldan. Something he never thought he’d have before leaving home. Tevinter wasn’t really known for its garden parties.

He hoped that the noise that was bound to come from their home tonight wouldn’t ruin their evening.

Inside the house was deathly quiet and that had Dorian’s tension ratcheting up another notch. He heard absolutely nothing. On a typical Sunday at least, the television would be on, if only for background noise while Rilienus sat with his laptop doing, well, whatever it was he did. But no, there wasn’t even the light click of fingers over a keyboard to break the silence.

“Rilienus?”

“I’m in your office, Love.”

And suddenly Dorian knew exactly what he had forgotten to do that morning. Before running out to meet with the Iron Bull, Dorian had been in the office going over his business and personal financials on the computer and figuring out exactly how much he still needed to fulfill his ultimate goal. He’d gotten so engrossed in what he was doing that he lost track of time and when he realized that he needed to leave he had rushed to find his tape measure then run out the door, forgetting to shut down the computer or lock the office door. And Rilienus, in his ultimate wisdom, had gone into his office and seen.

Dorian began to shake. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t force himself to move, just stood in the foyer, surrounded by décor he never would have chosen for himself but was what Rilienus preferred, and shook so hard his teeth rattled in his jaw.

“Are you going to make me come out to you, Dorian? You know you won’t like it if you do.”

_Kaffas!_ No, no, he definitely didn’t want that. He had to move, now.

If someone asked him later how he got from the foyer to the office he would have no idea what to say. The world seemed to be moving around him in clips of time. Blink- leaving the foyer. Blink- halfway down the connecting hallway. Blink- standing in the office doorway, shaking hard enough to rattle teeth, too afraid to look Rilienus in the eye.

And the man sat, cool and calm, in Dorian’s office chair as though nothing were amiss. Rilienus had gone through his drawers, some of which had been locked, as there were several months of bank statements sitting on the desk before him. As was their business contract with the bank. “So, Dorian,” Rilienus began with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, “why don’t you tell me what I’m looking at?”

Dorian knew that, as soon as he opened his mouth, he never should have said anything. “I have no idea. Porn possibly?”

Rilienus was around the desk in a flash, his fingers twisting in Dorian’s hair and wrenching his head back, baring his neck at a painful angle, causing Dorian to hiss. “What have I said about your mouth, Dorian? It’s stupid comments like that that cause me to have to discipline you. Now, care to try again?”

“I- I’ve been saving!” he said with a pained gasp as Rilienus twisted his fingers, pulling out clumps from Dorian’s scalp. He tried to grasp at the other man’s arm but the angle was near impossible, he just couldn’t get a grip.

“You’ve been hiding the money from me, Dorian,” Rilienus answered, sighing with disappointment. It was a lie, in the end, that disappointment. “You’ve been planning to leave me, haven’t you?”

“No!”  he lied. “I would never leave you! I love you!”

“I don’t believe you, Dorian.” Rilienus stroked Dorian’s cheek with his other hand and Dorian tried to stay loose, knowing that after that stroke would come the slap. And then the rest.

 

 

 

Dorian woke in agony, though to be honest, he was surprised he awoke at all. Everything hurt, screamed, at him as he attempted to open his eyes, only to give up when he realized that they were both swollen nearly completely shut. He lay pressed against his office floor and took mental stock of his body. Both eyes and left cheek badly swollen; both lips cut and scabbed over; nose possibly broken, definitely had been bleeding.

Right wrist was twisted in a way that proclaimed that it was broken, as were three of his fingers on that hand. His dominant hand. His drawing hand. But he couldn’t think about that now, he had to make sure nothing was seriously damaged.

Across his kidneys hurt deeply from where Rilienus had punched him several times, but he wouldn’t know the extent of that damage until he was able to urinate and that was going to be a while. But his spine was good and that brought a sigh of relief. And his legs felt not too bad, relatively speaking, though his right knee didn’t feel like it was sitting right. Feet were good, he could walk out of here if he could ever get himself up off the floor.

And he tried, he really did, but whenever he tried to put some weight on his arms he screamed with the pain and collapsed back to the floor. And _vishante kaffas_ if he wasn’t losing consciousness again.

He thought he might have heard the knocker on the office door but his hearing was starting to sound like nothing more than white noise now and the room was getting dark again, even though the brightness of the sun through the window had been blinding him just moments ago.

“Hey, Dorian! Can we come in? I just wanted to introduce you to my Site Manager in case I’m not-“

“Fuck! Chief, call the cops!”

“Is he…?”

“I don’t know! Do it!”

 

 

 

Dorian woke in a hospital room. He sighed, recognizing the sterile smell and cold feel to the air before he even thought to open his eyes. It wasn’t his first time in hospital, probably wouldn’t be his last.

The pain was at least tolerable now, most likely because they’d given him some form of pain killer. And as he flexed his fingers- well, the ones that weren’t held together to keep them set- he felt the sharp pull of a needle in the back of his hand from an intravenous tube.

Slowly he opened his eyes to take in the whiteness of the room. At least the swelling had gone down in his face and it felt as though his nose had been reset, hopefully straight. His wrist had also been set in plaster and, yes, his fingers had been taped together in a giant mass to keep them straight as well.

His lower back still hurt a fair bit and he hoped there would be no permanent damage there. He tried rolling slightly to see how much mobility he had when a nurse stepped in and admonished him for moving at all. She shuffled closer, rearranged his pillows so that he could sit up more easily, chatting at him about inconsequential things before telling him that the doctor was on his way before she shuffled right out again.

He wondered where Rilienus was during all this. He glanced out the nearby window and thought it must be nearing the dinner hour about now, though he wasn’t completely certain of what day. He vaguely remembered waking up in his office and hearing someone coming to the door but he had no real idea of who that person was. It most certainly hadn’t been Rilienus.

The thought of Rilienus coming through the door to see him had him shaking painfully, even as he wanted to see him as something familiar in this frightening environment. It was stupid and he didn’t understand how he could be so numb to it all. So pathetic and disgusting, really.

“Good afternoon, Messere Pavus!” a cheerful voice called from the doorway. The doctor entered, moving over to the monitoring equipment that was attached with electrodes to Dorian’s chest under his hospital gown. He was a tall man, a good six inches above Dorian’s own six feet, with ragged gold blond hair tied haphazardly in a short tail at the nape of his neck and light brown eyes that Dorian thought looked like amber. His scrubs, under the white lab coat, had cartoon cats on them in bright colours, and Dorian wondered if he wasn’t actually a pediatrician that was in the wrong department. “How are we feeling?”

Dorian tried to snort with derision but it hurt his nose and the doctor smiled. “My names is Doctor Ward Anderson, but most just call me Anders. I’m one of the on-call Emergency room attendants and will be your physician during your stay.”

The man made it sound like he was visiting the spa, and Dorian couldn’t decide if he should laugh at the absurdity or just break down crying.

“Are you able to listen while I tell you about your injuries and treatment?”

Dorian nodded, even though what he really wanted to do was go back to sleep. Or cry.

“Well, first off, when it comes to internal bleeding and facial injuries, we treat first with magic, even without consent. We always try to get consent anyway, in case of personal prejudice,” Anders grimaced at that and Dorian understood completely, “but you were unconscious so that was not possible. Your nose and left orbital bone were shattered but we reset them with little issue. Your vision should be fine but our optometrist will run a few tests sometime tomorrow.

Your right kidney had been ruptured but it was healed and your blood flushed for toxins. We’ll continue to monitor that for at least another twenty-four hours in case any particles were missed as that can cause severe infection.

Your hand and wrist, on the other hand, have been set and plastered. They are not life threatening and will actually heal better if the heal slowly. If we try to rush the bone bonding process we could weaken the bone and make it too fragile to withstand any weight.”

Dorian closed his eyes and felt the first of many tears to come slide down his cheek. He couldn’t work with his hand like that. If he couldn’t work, he couldn’t earn, and if he couldn’t earn he’d never be able to free Rilienus. The man would be stuck with him forever.

Anders continued on as though Dorian weren’t crying. He probably saw this all the time in the ER. “You’ve had visitors. They found you and got you here, refused to leave until they knew you were all right. Do you want to see them?”

Dorian opened his eyes and looked at the doctor in confusion. “Them? Who is it?”

“A giant of a Qunari that has flirted with every nurse that passes him by- even Mrs. Hutchins and she’s older than my grandmother!- and a younger human man that likes to entertain the children in the waiting room by giving away a bunch of stuffed nugs he had in his truck.” 

The guilt and anxiety hit Dorian hard. The Qunari could only be the Iron Bull. The young man, on the other hand, he had no clue about. Rilienus would certainly never drive a truck, have stuffed nugs, or have anything to do with children. He hastily wiped at his eyes with his good hand and asked the doctor to let them in, if only to let the Iron Bull know that he was no longer available to complete the design project.

And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth. All his hard work to make it easier for Rilienus to be free of him and now he would be unable to get the money together. Not that Rilienus understood, of course. He probably thought Dorian hated him and was running away.

“Hey, Big Guy!” The Iron Bull called from the doorway in his usual jovial way. “Good to see you awake.”

Dorian gave him a nod and his attempt at a weak smile, which he was certain was more of a grimace. “Yes, well, I’m sorry to have to receive you in this manner.” He tried for nonchalance, but it fell flat. “Afraid I can’t get up to greet you properly and a handshake is a bit out of the question.”

Iron Bull sobered immediately. “Dorian-“ only to be cut off by an elbow to the ribs by the young man stepping around him. Dorian would put him in his early twenties, still fresh-faced, with under-cut short brown hair, chestnut eyes and a very Tevinter complexion. He reached out with senses he hadn’t used in nearly a decade but felt none of the tell-tale tingle of magic in the blood. Soporati then.

“Sorry about the Chief,” the boy said, extending his hand. “He’s gonna be a Mother Hen around you if you don’t put him in his place right off. Cremisius Aclassi, Site Manager for Chargers Renovations. Pleasure to meet you, Altus Pavus.”

Dorian tensed just a little bit further. The man knew! It had been so long since someone had recognized him that he had grown complacent about his past. But years of dealing with the upper class of Tevinter society kicked in and he smiled awkwardly at his guest. “Messere Aclassi, I’m certain you are aware that I am no longer a true Altus. Dorian will do fine.”

“Then it’s Krem,” he replied, returning the smile and giving him the fingers-to-forehead salute of the Tevinter military. “Just happy we came along for the visit when we did.”

Dorian curled in on himself at that thought. These two men had seen him laid low, bleeding and broken on the office floor, brought about by his own stupidity. “Yes, well, my apologies about that, of course. Hopefully this will not skew you against me in future endeavours.”

Krem and Bull exchanged concerned glances. “Of course, this won’t bias us against you, Big Guy. It’s not like this is your fault.”

Dorian looked away, the anxiety growing. “Well, to be honest, I was keeping things from him and he found out. It…did not go well.”

There was a deep, threatening growl and Dorian turned back to the pair to see the Iron Bull’s body tense, his hands clenched in fists so tight the knuckles were turning white, and his chest was vibrating with his growl. It had Dorian trying to back away with sudden fear, shaking with it.

“Chief, you need to go out in the hall now.”

He tried, he really fought with himself, but Dorian couldn’t stop shaking. It was getting harder to breathe and he didn’t understand why. The Iron Bull was a nice enough man, he didn’t strike Dorian as a violent sort of person, even if he was the size of a standard tank. But that low growl coming from his lips terrified him and he just couldn’t seem to understand why. Certainly, Rilienus had growled somewhat like that before-

“Chief! Now!”

Dorian didn’t register the growling sound disappearing or the soft footfalls of the other man as he moved to a chair and sat himself with a weary sigh. He didn’t seem to hear much of anything until Krem began to speak. “I was born a girl.”

It took several moments for Dorian to realize that Krem had spoken, and then for him to filter the words. _A girl? What?_

Cremisius was looking down at the floor, wringing a napkin between his hands that must have come from a pocket because Dorian did not remember seeing it before. “I always knew I was different but you know Tevinter, deviance was not to be tolerated.”

Dorian found himself nodding along. That’s certainly how it had been for him, anyway.

“Yeah, so anyway, the folks wanted me to do the usual thing for girls- get married, pop out a few kids, all that crap. But it wasn’t for me, so as soon as I could get out of high school I joined up with the army.”

That surprised Dorian until he realized who he was listening to. The Tevinter military did not take females in any capacity. But Krem, as he stood now, was not a female, and his joining the army must have been the catalyst.

“Got as far as lieutenant before I got found out. Took some shrapnel from an IED and I got the one doctor that couldn’t be bribed.” Krem sighed, a sad, depressive sound that had Dorian frowning. “I’m sure you can imagine what happened when my CO and the rest of my company found out.” And Dorian could, that was the sad thing. “After I got out of the hospital I was given a dishonourable discharge and made a run for it before the MPs could get a hold of me.

I wandered as a merc for hire for about two years before I ran into a few guys from my squad at a bar and they decided that they were going to meet out my punishment themselves. It was the Iron Bull that got in the middle of things and saved my life. Lost his eye for it too.”

“What?” Dorian exclaimed, surprising himself with it. “Why would he do that?”

Krem looked up with a soft smile. “It’s just how he is. Right now, he’s berating himself for not getting there earlier to maybe save you some of the pain you went through.”

“Well that’s just stupid,” Dorian grumbled, looking away once again.

“Maybe, but it’s how he is. He’s also a great person to talk to about all the shit you’re going through. He’s listened to all the Chargers at some point or another and helps where he can, finds someone else that can do it if he can’t. It’s because of him that I started going to therapy and came to the realization that being how I am, who I am, is okay, no matter what Tevinter says. And that what happened to me was not my fault.”

Dorian was frozen, unable to speak or act or even think properly. Of course, it was his fault! The things that went wrong were always his own doing, Rilienus made sure he knew so that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. He knew he should have made sure that Rilienus knew what he was doing before hand, if only to make sure that the buy out didn’t come as a surprise and he could plan for his new freedom from the albatross that was Dorian Pavus. And he certainly wasn’t going to have some quack therapist try to fill his head with lies otherwise.

He was about to tell the other man so when there was a short knock against his doorframe. A man and woman stood there, her dark to his light, both in the standard uniform of the local police. “Apologies for the interruption,” the woman began, Nevarran from the accent, and very no-nonsense, “but we must speak with Messere Pavus.”

Krem nodded and patted Dorian’s hand, brushing past the pair, stopping briefly to exchange soft words with the male before leaving. The pair then entered and slid the pair of chairs in the room to the side of the bed. They each pulled business cards from breast pockets and handed them to Dorian.

“I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, head of the Haven Investigations Unit, and this is my partner Commander Cullen Rutherford.” The men nodded to each other and Dorian placed the cards carefully on the bedside table, out of sight of the bed. “We need to speak with you about what happened.”

Dorian felt sick. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want other people to know just how much of a fuck up he was. How he had pushed all of this pain on himself with his stupidity. Especially not this intimidating woman. Her cheek bones were sharp enough to cut glass and her dark eyes were disturbingly piercing. He could almost picture her wielding a sword to cut down her enemies. No, he had to convince these people to just go away.

“There’s really nothing to discuss, Officers. We had an argument, I brought this on myself really. And I have no intention of pressing charges which, as far as I’m aware, you would need me to do to be able to prosecute him, so there’s no need for you to be here.”

The two officers exchanged glances before Rutherford took over. “Messere Aquius attempted to commit bank fraud after assaulting you. He forged your signature on several bank documents in an attempt to withdraw your savings. Thankfully, a sharp-eyed teller realized that he was most certainly not you and reported it to her manager who reported it to us. Since he assaulted you before stealing your bank information he can be charged with aggravated robbery with the bank as one of the victims, and it is them that are pressing charges.”

Dorian stared, mouth agape. He…what? He did…no. No, it certainly was not possible that Rilienus…he didn’t understand. How could he…? The woman- a Seeker, why a Seeker? Yes, Dorian was a mage but living in the South made using his magic uncomfortable around other people for the stigma and Rilienus had ordered him not to so he wasn’t a threat or anything- she was speaking again, reaching out to, what? To touch him, to arrest him? Dorian flinched back and whimpered, the other officer taking the woman’s wrist and pulling her hand back with a pitying look. _Kaffas_ he couldn’t breathe! His heart was so loud in his chest and he was shaking, he couldn’t stop, he fought just to get air in his lungs. The other two stood and moved away, there were words but he couldn’t…he couldn’t…the doctor stepped in, fiddled with the IV stand nearby and…

 

 

The room was darker now, the lights extinguished though there was a bit of brightness that leaked in from the hallway from the cracked open door. Outside was the soft rumble of an approaching storm. Dorian shifted his head slightly to be able to see out the window. He had always loved thunderstorms as a child though, now, he was having a hard time gathering much enthusiasm. Everything about him felt deadened, numb, as though the idea of human emotion of any kind was somewhat alien and difficult to mimic.

After recovering from his initial panic attack the officers and Doctor Anders had returned to his bedside. He would be discharged in the morning. The two officers would escort him back to his home to retrieve whatever belongings he needed then to a nearby hotel. Dorian did not want to go but they explained that Rilienus was already out on bail and at the house, and that as a complainant, Dorian could not be living in the same home, especially with a serious assault case. It just wasn’t safe.

But what was he supposed to do to live? He couldn’t work out of a hotel room, not to mention his broken wrist which would make drawing near impossible. His bank account was now completely frozen while the bank and the courts dragged their feet clearing things up. He would only be able to stay in a hotel on the police’s dime for a very short while and then…what? Return to Tevinter? Into the loving arms of the father that had tried to- no! That was certainly never going to happen!

Maybe he could call Sera…and what? Apologize? Beg forgiveness for being the worst friend ever and basically driving her away? He would have loved to have called Felix, but his childhood friend had finally passed away the year before of the cancer that had been eating him up since their high school days. Rilienus had talked him out of attending the funeral.

He would have to call the Iron Bull and officially turn down the work he had been offering, not that he thought the job was still available after what the man had seen. That, at least, brought an emotion bubbling up into Dorian’s chest, even if it was regret. He had so been looking forward to sketching out how those rooms could look with a little love and creativity. And seeing the joy and wonder on the Iron Bull’s face as they came to fruition. The Qunari’s face had been an open book of emotion as they had done their tour, something Dorian hadn’t seen in a client in some time, and he wanted to be able to bring that out in him again.

Part of him wished that the Iron Bull was there with him, staring out the window at the incoming storm. He wanted to talk to the man about the therapist that had come in to talk to him before dinner. About his ideas for the house. About the weather. Anything, really. Anything but what had happened with Rilienus Aquius.

He hadn’t realized how tense he had become until the first crack of thunder had him whimpering in the dark. The brief flashes of lightning had him gripping the blankets around him with white knuckles. By the time the storm was directly overhead and so loud it shook the walls, he was screaming along with it.

 

 

 

Pentaghast and Rutherford drove him home the next morning, after a thorough going over by Doctor Anders and the promise to make follow up appointments with his secretary. Strangely Dorian found himself liking the affable man, even as he went on and on about how wonderful his cat was. Then he was being bundled into the back of a so non-descript sedan that it screamed police vehicle and driven across Haven to the home that, until the other day, he had shared with his lover. He tried to think about what was a necessity for the foreseeable future and what could be left behind. There was little that they would be able to fit in the sedan’s trunk, and the rest of the backseat would be reserved for his computer system, which he was going to need if he was to keep the business afloat.

He was so lost in these thoughts that at first, he didn’t register what he was seeing as they pulled up in the driveway. A large cube van stood there, as well as nearly a half-dozen pick up trucks, surrounded by a small crew of very eclectic people, two of which he recognized right away. The horns were a dead giveaway.

“Big Guy!” the Iron Bull cried with a smile and wide arms as he stepped from the car. “My guys and I are here to help.”

Dorian stared in shock for a moment. “I…uh…what?”

Krem stepped forward addressing Dorian even as he took and shook the hands of the two officers that had joined them. “The Chief thought that we could help out by storing your things at our equipment warehouse until you could get back on your feet. We brought the crew to make things go as quickly as possible.”

Dorian was gobsmacked. He didn’t know what to say or do at that moment, just stared at the group of strangers waiting with smiling faces- well, except for one elvehn woman that looked about ready to stab him, but she so far had turned that same look on just about everyone so he didn’t take it personally- and fought back the deluge of tears welling up in his eyes.

Cullen stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before addressing the group. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for doing this. Our crime scene techs have already been through for photographs and evidence collection but please be mindful of where you step and to only take what Messere Pavus needs to continue with his business. All furnishings must stay in their places until after Messere Aquius’ trial.”

There were nods and muttered agreements all around while Dorian felt his world suddenly crumble around him. Rilienus’ trial. His _trial._ His prosecution stemming from what he did against Dorian. The man he had claimed to love.

The world blurred around him and the sudden pain in his knees let his distorted mind know that he had fallen to the pavement but none of that really mattered. What mattered was that Ril…Rilienus was…

“Hey, Big Guy.”

There were hands, large, warm hands, sliding up and down the knobs of his spine. Other hands, smaller but no less comforting, held his shoulders, while calloused yet still feminine ones twined with his fingers. The hands grounded him, reminded him that he was not alone. That Rilienus’ crimes against him were not what would destroy him. His conscious mind told him that really that made no sense but he wasn’t paying much attention to that guy right now, was he?

Dorian slowly looked around him. Kneeling facing him, her standard issue pencil skirt that she looked so very uncomfortable in rucked up to expose several nasty scars on her knees and lower thighs was Officer Pentaghast. Rutherford was behind him, pressing down on his shoulders though not nearly hard enough to hurt. Only to feel that pressure. The Iron Bull was also kneeling to his right, facing towards him with concern, his thick fingers kneading every tightly wound back muscle. Even Cremisius was there, though the man only stood guard over the group as they attempted to calm Dorian’s small break down.

Something he hadn’t realized was tight in his chest loosened with a sense of relief. For the longest time he had the thought that the only person that cared about him was Rilienus, especially after Sera had buggered off and Felix died. But here were a group of near strangers, there for him, protecting and caring for him when he had done nothing to deserve it. For them, if no one else, he took a deep breath and straightened his spine, adding metaphorical steel to keep himself going.

“Thank you,” he said, softer than he meant to but at least with no tremble. “I apologize for that. I’ll try not to break down like that in the future.”

The Iron Bull stood with a slightly pained grunt then reached out to help him to his feet, Cassandra standing much more gracefully. “No need. You need to cry or scream, you do it. We’ll be there to help bring you back.”

Dorian stared, incredulous. “You don’t even know me! Why would you help me? I’m of Tevinter, if nothing else. Our peoples have been at war for centuries!”

The Iron Bull laughed, a deep guffaw that Dorian wasn’t sure if he should be offended by or not. “You ever use your magic to kill my guys? Take out some orphanage full of kids? Yeah, didn’t think so. Then we’re cool, Dorian. You and I aren’t fighting and we’re not in Seheron now. No need to let some stupid racial prejudice keep us from being friends.”

Cassandra and Cullen were both smiling at this, while Dorian was, on again, completely flabbergasted. It was…this was just too much. Too many emotional ups and downs in a short period of time and he couldn’t process it all. He decided to shut all but the necessities of the moment out and he would tear it all apart in his head later. “Yes, well, let’s get this move over with so I can figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, yes?”

That sobered the group and Krem lead the way into the house, Dorian in the center with the officers to either side and Bull taking the rear. They were his bodyguards in this endeavour, that much was certain.

Inside the remainder of the group was packing the contents of his file cabinets into banker’s boxes, his display boards, art equipment, and computer already packed up and sitting by the door to be taken outside. Dorian glanced over everything, let Krem know that those things would go in the car, then moved on with Bull and the officers towards other rooms in the house.

It never really dawned on Dorian how much of the house did not reflect him in any way. There were a couple of bottles of wine in the kitchen that belonged to him, some videos in the living room that Rilienus had never liked and therefor they never watched that he would like to take with him, but really anything that belonged strictly to him were in the office or their shared bedroom.

Where Rilienus was sitting on the bed.

Cassandra and Cullen stepped forward as a unit to block Dorian from him, the Iron Bull only a half-step behind. “You are not supposed to be here, Messere Aquius. You were given written notice, which you signed for, that Messere Pavus’ things were being removed today and that you were not to be within 100 feet of the domicile while that happened,” Cassandra said, voice cold.

“I’m protecting what’s mine. I’m not about to let a bunch of strangers into my home to rifle through my things.”

Dorian’s heart sunk. Some part of his mind had wanted Rilienus to apologize, maybe beg for Dorian’s forgiveness. Profess his undying love, though even he realized that would be a long shot. But all Rilienus seemed to care about was the contents of the house. His chest began to feel tight, his breath coming in short pants, until he felt a rough, calloused finger touch his hand. He looked down and saw that Bull had reached behind his back to give him that reassuring touch. Nothing major, just a brief glance of skin against skin, but it was enough for Dorian to realize that, even if Rilienus didn’t care, there was someone that did.

“Officer Rutherford, please escort Messere Aquius off the property and keep him there while we conduct our business here. If he attempts to circumvent you in any way, you have authority to arrest him for breach of his release. Understood?”

“Completely,” and damned if you couldn’t here the smug smile in the man’s voice.

The wall of flesh turned as one so that Dorian couldn’t see more than a flash of hair and red silk shirt as Rilienus and Cullen left the room. Dorian sighed as the shirt was actually one of his, but it didn’t look all that good with his complexion so he decided to let it slide. Instead he turned to his closet and slid open the mirrored doors.

Inside was as though a tornado carrying sharp blades had descended upon his wardrobe. Every piece was a shredded mess of cloth and ripped buttons, and everything smelled of ammonia as though he had-

“Urine,” Cassandra supplied. “The man urinated on everything.”

Dorian wasn’t certain exactly what happened after that. He heard a sound that was similar to a cat in distress and felt something hard hit his knees, but the world around him went a dark sort of grey and he could not seem to catch his breath, no matter how he tried. He heard voices in his periphery, speaking nonsensical words, then movement, air against his skin.

He couldn’t understand what was happening. Why? Why would Rilienus do all this to him? Had he not done something he needed? Not been good enough? Pretty enough, smart enough? There had to be something that Dorian had done wrong. Something! Some reason for all of this…this spite!

It was the smell of Northern Red tea brewing that had the grey fading away to be replaced by the harsh black and white tile of the kitchen. Maker, how he had hated that tile! But Rilienus had insisted and so the tile had gone up. White, black, with stainless steel fixtures reminded Dorian too much of his family’s kitchen back home- not that they spent much time in in, being the domain of their cook, but still not a pleasant memory. But the permeating smell of Red Tea, on the other hand, was a comforting reminder of home.

What seemed odd in the kitchen was the man that was moving back and forth, pulling down cups and measuring out sugar and milk into Dorian’s little tea set that hadn’t seen the light of day in almost two years. “Iron Bull? What are you doing?”

The large man turned, surprised at the question or the fact that the man actually spoke, and Dorian couldn’t stop the snort that escaped him. The Iron Bull was wearing an apron. And not just any apron but the one that Sera had sent him as a joke gift on his birthday two years previously that said ‘Fuck the Chef. But not while he’s cooking’.

“Hey, Big Guy. I thought that now would be a good time to make some tea and when I saw the northern blend I couldn’t help myself.”

Dorian could understand that. Red Tea had been his go to when he was worrying about Felix’s health. Or on the rare occasion when his father would try to contact him. Or When Ril- well, either Red Tea or some strong Tevinter wine. Or Fereldan Beer. Antivan Whiskey. Some kind of bubble swill out of Orlais.

He drank much more than was really good for his health, he was coming to realize.

“I must remember to pack it before we leave. I have the feeling that I’ll be drinking a fair bit of it in the coming days.”

The Iron Bull brought over the tea set, balanced on one of Rilienus’ silver platters. Why, in the name of the Maker, did he have silver platters? And not just one! There were nearly a dozen stored away in different cupboards around the room. It was bloody ridiculous.

The smell of the tea was strong, much stronger than the normal Pekoe or Green Teas that could be found in Fereldan, with just a hint of cinnamon and something like cardamom that Dorian loved. He took a cup and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply before setting it down and adding a generous dollop of milk. Dorian loved the tea, but his stomach needed it to be a little smoother.

Bull, on the other hand, was adding sugar to it as though he was making a desert. Dorian had to stop and just stare in horrified fascination as the Qunari continued to add spoonfuls of white granules. Then came enough milk to turn the brew near white on it’s own. “Bull, did you actually add any tea to your sugar milk?”

Bull paused in his ministrations to look down at his now grainy white tea then back to Dorian with a shrug. “Got a sweet tooth.”

Dorian reached up to lightly rub at the bridge of his nose. “More like you have a sweet body.”

He froze in sudden terror. That sounded like he was flirting. No. No! He wasn’t allowed to flirt! Flirting was bad! Flirting made Rilienus doubt himself, and when that happened-

The Iron Bull laughed, breaking Dorian out of his spiraling thoughts. “Maybe, but I’m so damn sweet every dentist in a twenty-mile radius loves me.”

Dorian didn’t respond, but the tension that had begun to build within him had dissipated so he decided to just leave it. They sat in companionable silence as the others moved about the house, occasionally answering quick questions about what belonged to who.

As they each came in, Dorian was introduced to the members of the Chargers Renovations team. And each had a…colourful nickname. First was Stitches, they’re health and safety representative, as well as emergency medic. He started out as a paramedic, but was drawn to the hands-on creativity of construction.

Rocky, their only dwarf, was seriously into demo. Like, he had to reigned in before he tore the whole place down, kind of into. He was also their explosives expert which could make demo a little frightening.

Skinner, the elvehn woman of the angry face, with her partner, Dalish, were their landscapers. Dalish was also a fairly powerful mage, though she refused to admit to such. Not that Dorian could blame her. The prejudices against magic in the South were still prevalent, even after several centuries of independence from the yoke of Chantry rule. Skinner was just big on ‘pruning’, though Dorian thought that maybe she just liked knives.

The last of their specialists was Grim, something of a general contractor. He was a wizard with electrical and plumbing, and apparently could paint the straightest line known to man- according to Bull. He also had the fastest turn around at getting permits, though no one was entirely certain how, as the man rarely spoke more than two words in a day.

Dorian nodded and smiled as each were introduced to him, though he said very little. This whole experience was getting to be just a little too much for him and he needed to be done with it as quickly as possible. Seeming to understand this, the Iron Bull quickly got his men the answers they needed and moved on out of the kitchen so that Dorian could have his space.

Once they had finished their tea the Iron Bull washed out the set and prepared it to be packed up. The brewing kettle and Red Tea went into their own box so that they could travel with Dorian and not put in storage. Dorian added his few bottles of good wine to the tea box, as well as a few pieces of cutlery, stem ware, and a few dishes, since he had no clue how long he would be living out of a hotel room. He prayed to the Maker it wouldn’t be very long.

“Whose plants are these?” the Iron Bull asked.

Dorian turned and smiled. It was one of the few things that was really ‘his’ in the house. A wall of windows that separated the kitchen from the outside world had been turned into a mass of greenery. There were hanging spider plants and ivy, glass shelves filled with potted orchids and succulents. Even a large potted palm that looked much like the trees outside his family’s home in Qarinus. “Mine, actually. But they’re a little much to be dragging around to a hotel. And I certainly can’t put them in a storage warehouse.”

“I could take them to my house,” Bull said after a brief pause.

“What?”

“Well, I have this spot out back that Dalish sort of turned into something of a greenhouse to store some of our more delicate landscaping plants and I can put the majority of it out there. The hanging stuff I’d probably have to put up in my kitchen-“

The Qunari stopped abruptly and Dorian looked up at him in surprise, until he realized it was because he was crying. As he wiped his cheeks he began covering for his mistake. “My sincerest apologies, the Iron Bull. I’m not certain what’s come over me.”

Bull just nodded with a soft smile. “I get it, it’s okay. Today’s just been a little bit crazy.”

Dorian snorted. “You can certainly say that again.”

“Today’s been a little bit-“

Dorian reached out and slapped him playfully on the arm, then froze in sudden terror. _Kaffas!_ He had hit him! Why did he do that? That wasn’t allowed! He was going to be punished for this! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

“Dorian!”

It was a command, deep and insistent, forcing him to look up at the speaker. Damn, he was on the ground again, his knees smarting from falling once again. There would probably be bruising by the end of the day. The Iron Bull was there with him, looking more than a little concerned. Which was odd, to be certain. He should be angry, furious, that Dorian had dared to lay hands on him like that.

“Dorian, don’t be silly. We were playing around,” Bull said. Oh, he must have said all that out loud. How embarrassing. “It’s not like you threw a fireball or something at me.”

Dorian winced at that, though he covered it by turning his face away as he stood. “Yes, well…my apologies once again, the Iron Bull. I’m afraid the day has gotten the best of me.”

Bull stood alongside him, giving him an inscrutable look before breaking out into a visibly faked grin. But the large man just clapped him on the shoulder with reassurance. “I’m sure the boys are almost finished, let’s head out and make sure the things you absolutely need make it into the car, okay?”

Dorian glanced at the wall of greenery behind them. “What about the plants?”

“I’ll come back once you’re settled outside. Don’t worry, I won’t leave them.”

Dorian’s smile was somewhat watery as they made their way back out into the summer heat. The pickup trucks were now filled to near capacity, as was the cube van. He spotted his computer monitor and tower in the car and Cassandra was just closing the trunk lid on his bags of clothing. The only thing left was the box from the kitchen, which the Iron Bull slid onto the floor of the backseat before heading back in to begin bringing out his plants, corralling the others into helping him. Dorian was left alone for the moment with Cassandra and Cullen, who informed them that Messere Aquius had left the premises and claimed he would not return for another three hours.

“You have good friends there, Messere Pavus,” Cassandra said with a nod towards the house.

Dorian stared at the front door, an awed smile touching his lips for the first time in many years. “I think you might be right.”

 

 

 

The hotel was horrible and he got out of it as soon as possible. Therapy was a little less horrible but he stuck with it because it actually seemed to be helping. The wrist cast lasted six terrible, horrible, nightmarish weeks and he thanked the Maker every day that it was off.

Now Dorian sat in group therapy, a round robin of chairs filled with all manner of people, waiting impatiently to speak so that he could just get it over with. Doctor Anders, from the hospital, generally ran the meetings, occasionally spelled by his boss, Doctor Amell, when he was forced to be in the hospital during their usual meeting times. Doctor Amell was a nice woman, though she tended to be very austere and all-business. Anders’ more laid-back approach tended to put him more at ease but beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes.

Tonight was an Anders night, thank the Maker. Dorian wasn’t certain he’d be able to speak if it had been Amell. What he needed to say was going to be hard enough.

“Good evening everyone!” Anders said cheerfully. “Got your coffees and snacks? Do it quick before we start!”

Dorian watched as a few people took a last-minute trip to the snacks table for enough caffeine to keep them going during the meeting. Sometimes the boost was needed to keep the spirits up enough to deal with everything they were bombarded with. Sometimes you just needed to replace one addiction with another and coffee was better than most.

After a few more minutes, everyone seemed to have gotten their fair share of snacks and Anders began the meeting with his customary smile. “All right, group, let’s get started. I first wanted to go over some of the things we touched on at our last meeting. Fenris? How was work this week?”

The elf hung his head, shoulders hunched, stark white hair covering his face. Fenris was a Northerner, like himself, escaping a brutal relationship. But that was where the similarities ended. Fenris’ ‘Master’ had traumatised the elf, both physically and mentally, He bore horrific scars over his entire body and his once black hair had turned white apparently overnight. He finally managed to run away from his abuser, though he was still at risk since the man continued to stalk him, going to far as to travel to other countries to do it. Fenris was at his wits end, turning to therapy to try and help him find ways to cope. He had found work as a barista recently and so the group was doing its best to help him with the routine of having employment.

“Work was…difficult this week,” the elf finally answered after a long pause.

“Why was that, if I may ask.”

Fenris sighed deeply before running his hands through his hair and sitting up. As usual, since he had joined the group, Dorian was struck at how beautiful the elf was. His pale hair was made even paler against the backdrop of tanned Northern skin and the two together worked to frame the deepest green eyes. Unfortunately, those eyes were always suspicious and angry, especially against Dorian who apparently embodied everything Fenris hated about Tevinter- a mage from a noble family. It didn’t matter that Dorian rarely used his magic and had long since left his noble family behind, he was still the son of a Magister and therefore evil.

“A repeat customer is a racist. Continually calls the elves in the shop ‘knife-ear’. I came very close to punching him this morning when he said it to Oranna.”

“This is the woman that also came from Tevinter?”

Dorian was always impressed about that with Anders- he never said ‘elf’ or ‘dwarf’. It was always equal in his eyes. Man, woman, non-binary, didn’t matter, he was always respectful of race and gender.

“Yes,” Fenris lowered his head once again. “She gets scared easily and is still learning the language, so she never stands up for herself when things like this happen.”

“Have you spoken to her about possibly sitting in for a session with us?”

“I tried but she’s still too…”

Anders nodded and made a small note on his clipboard before continuing. “All right, you said you were ‘close to punching him’. Why did you not?”

“You said I should try and stop and take a breath and think about whether or not I should be doing what I want to do and what the consequences would be if I did it.”

“Good for you, Fenris!” Anders exclaimed with a wide grin. “I’m glad you were able to implement the things we’ve discussed in group. What ended up happening to the customer?”

Fenris chuckled under his breath. “Hawke heard him and escorted him bodily from the premises. By the collar and waistband.”

Dorian, along with others in the group, laughed at the visual. Fenris had discussed his employer, known mainly as Hawke, before. The man was…interesting to say the least.

Anders smiled along with the others. “Well I’m glad to hear that he was taken care of b/y the boss, so there will be no repercussions to the staff. Things like that can rebound on the employees badly when they try to protect each other.”

Several others in the group nodded as well, knowing full well what could happen when you tried to take care of yourself or others, and how bad the consequences could be.

“Well I’m proud of you, Fenris, for stopping and thinking about what you were doing instead of lashing out.” Anders applauded, the others joining in while Fenris blushed heavily. Even that was better than when Dorian had first joined the group, as Fenris would have angrily stormed off in embarrassment before.

Once everyone had calmed Anders turned himself to face Dorian head-on. “Dorian? You’ve been a bit fidgety tonight. Are you all right?”

He hadn’t realized it had been so bad, but now that the doctor mentioned it, he saw that he was wringing his fingers together. This was more nerve wracking than he had thought. “I…I mad a serious mistake last night.”

“Tell me what happened, Dorian?”

Before joining therapy, Dorian would have laughed all of this off and run away as soon as no one was looking, but now, with the deep trust of Doctor Anders, Dorian knew he could talk all he wanted. “I wasn’t paying attention to the call display and picked up a call from…from Rilienus.”

Anders looked concerned, as did several others in the group. Even Fenris. “What did he say to you, Dorian?”

“His usual spiel of how sorry he was, how he wanted to make it up to me. When I told him no he began his insults. That I wasn’t good enough to be loved, that I was useless and lost without him. I hung up on him.”

“Well that isn’t so bad, Dorian,” Anders said. “Certainly not a serious mistake.”

Dorian hung his head with shame. “That wasn’t the mistake.” He paused, swallowing heavily. “I started to repeat his words in my head. I forgot everything we discussed about my self-worth and started to spiral. I realize it now but at the time I was sort of…stuck. So I made it worse by trying to drown the voices in wine.”

Anders looked so sad that Dorian couldn’t watch him anymore. Fenris’ emotionless stare was much better.  “I drank three full bottles before I couldn’t hear the shit anymore. And, of course, that’s when the Iron Bull decided to call me.”

Everyone in therapy had heard about the Qunari by now, if not by Dorian then by the impressed Doctor Anders. As far as he was concerned, the men that brought a pulverized man into the ER, stayed with him to make sure he was all right, then went out of his way to help the man escape his living conditions and store his possessions for him, then help him find and move into a new apartment with absolutely nothing to gain from it was aces in his books. Anders tried to hide his cringe but Dorian caught it and felt even worse.

“What happened then, Dorian?”

“I’m afraid my memory is a little hazy around here. I am certain there was crying as I woke this morning with dried tears, and my throat was hoarse so there was most likely some yelling going on, but I haven’t the slightest clue what I actually said to him.”

Well now the entire group was cringing for him, even Fenris, who actually seemed to look sympathetic. Or was trying really hard not to laugh at his misery, Dorian wasn’t certain. Anders reached out and patted his hand. “What about today? Have you tried contacting Bull and talking to him?”

“Maker no!” Dorian exclaimed. “I couldn’t possibly! What if he hates me? What if I said something so terrible that he never wishes to speak with me again?”

“How will you know unless you ask?” Anders let Dorian think that over for a few moments before continuing. “That will be your personal homework for this week, Dorian. To go back and apologize for anything you might have said to him in your inebriated state, and to discuss with him any issues that may have arisen because of it. You are also to stay away from alcohol for the week.”

Dorian thought that that one might be the harder of the assignments but he nodded in acquiescence. The wine had been flowing a little more freely lately than he knew it should have, but therapy could only do so much to still the voices in his head sometimes.

The meeting continued on as it usually did, though by now Dorian really wasn’t paying much attention, and when they broke up for the night he hurried to stow away his chair and rush out into the evening air and out to the nearest bus stop. It would be some time before Dorian could afford a vehicle again, due to Rilienus and his thieving. It turned out that the man had been embezzling monies from the decorating business almost from day one, and since Rilienus had been in charge of the books, and made sure that there was always enough to cover the expenses of the work for at least one client at all times, Dorian hadn’t even noticed. The fact that Ril had been adamant about having the office at the house had been odd at first, but Dorian had enjoyed not having to commute so hadn’t complained. Turns out the man just hadn’t wanted the extra expense of rent and utilities at an office and claimed their mortgage and utilities on his taxes every year.

But now, because of all that, the old business accounts were all tied up in red tape which Dorian couldn’t break, as was his personal account that Rilienus had attempted to defraud. In order just to be able to afford to begin renting a very small apartment in the lower end community of Haven he had had to sell some of his furnishings and chase down a couple of clients that had yet to settle their accounts. Thankfully he had been able to secure two new clients and open new accounts for himself and the business.

Something else he could thank the Iron Bull for was his business.

Bull had found him an amazing lawyer in Josephine Montilyet who, along with her investigator Leliana Nightingale, had found all of Rilienus’ shady dealings involving the business and loopholes to remove his name and absorbed his share back into full ownership by Dorian. In payment Dorian was redesigning their offices from top to bottom. It was a win/win as far as Dorian was concerned.

Josephine, in turn had found Dorian some extra business in a tag-along writer by the name of Varric Tethras who was interested in how the design world worked for a prospective novel. While boisterous and prone to wearing his shirts unbuttoned to show off a frighteningly copious amount of chest hair, the dwarf was astute to the point of mind reading at times, and held a genuine interest in what Dorian did. It was refreshing in a way, though he did tend to ask about his time before…well, before.

But one thing Tethras was very good at, besides writing that is, was finance. Before becoming an author, he had been a day trader for a prestigious Dwarven Guild and still had his fingers in many financial pots. He had reworked Dorian’s entire business portfolio and had already upped his profit margin by nearly 15%. Once his banking issues finally settled down, he’d be looking at possibly getting an actual office to work out of and upgrading his computer system.

Looking out into he distance Dorian finally spotted his bus trudging along. It would still be few more minutes sine there were quite a few stops between where it crested the hill far away and his stop in front of the community center. And between himself and the bus he spotted another, very familiar, vehicle. The Iron Bull’s truck.

_Kaffas! Vishante Kaffas!_ With sugar on it!

The man pulled up to the curb in front of Dorian and rolled down his window, devoid of his usual affable smile. “Hey, Dorian. Climb in.”

He wanted to say no, to beg off and tell the Qunari that his bus was just up the hill, but that expressionless face would brook no argument. Instead he just nodded and fought his way into the cab.

They drove in tense silence, in the opposite direction of Dorian’s new apartment. “Where, exactly, are you taking me?”

“You will see when we get there,” Bull grunted, not taking his eye from the road. His tone left no room for anything else and so they stayed quiet until Bull pulled onto the rough, unpaved road that the property he had shown Dorian oh so long ago resided. Dorian looked ahead for the distinctive home and it’s battered exterior only to see a beautiful piece of restoration in progress.

The horrid grey brick had been completely removed to be replaced with robin’s egg blue clapboard and white gingerbread molding. A fieldstone walkway lead up to the front porch that had been completely rebuilt and painted a bright white to match the house trim. Sod had been laid and flowering plants and trees added, though they were still sparse, not yet grown to their full size. The change was so drastically profound that it took Dorian’s breath away.

“The Iron Bull, you and your people had worked wonders.”

Bull paused as he prepared to exit the vehicle. “Not yet. That’s why I brought you.”

Well that was cryptic, Dorian thought to himself. What exactly did I say to him in my drunken state that he would be like this. It couldn’t possibly be good.

 

 

The Iron Bull looked around the property with a touch of pride. Dorian was right, his boys had done an amazing job renovating this place. But there was a huge piece that they were missing and he needed Dorian for that, no matter what he might be thinking.

The phone call the night before had chilled the Iron Bull to the bone with concern for his…friend, he guessed would be the proper word, though really that didn’t quite cover it. Bull wanted to be Dorian’s friend, but they hadn’t really known each other very long and there had been a lot of turmoil during that time. Were they friends? Or just possible business associates? Who knew at this point. It was so very frustrating.

_“Why?”_

_“I’m sorry?”_

_“Why do you insist on helping me? Am I some form of social experiment to you? A way to ease your conscience over something in your past?_

_“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Dorian.”_

_“I’m saying that I will not be something for you to take pity on, you great lummox! I won’t be coddled or babied. I…I’ll…”_

_“Dorian? Are you crying?”_

_“I should have just let him finish the job.”_

_“Dor-“ CLICK_

The man had obviously bene inebriated and upset over something important, but Bull hadn’t had the chance to find out what. He tried calling back, texting, email, but Dorian had never responded. He tried driving by the apartment Dorian used now but he hadn’t answered the door. Finally he drove by the community center where he knew Dorian had group therapy every week, on the off chance he could catch him on his way out.

Seeing Dorian at the bus stop, Bull had let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. Some tiny part of the Iron Bull had been certain he would never see Dorian again.

Not alive, anyway.

With Dorian having agreed to get in the truck, Bull knew exactly where he needed to take the man, and what to do to give him a reason to keep going, at least long enough to work through whatever it was that had him so damned down.

They entered the vestibule, just as they had done all those weeks ago in the high heat of summer. School started a few days ago, now, and the growing season would soon be over, but for now he and his boys would continue to work on making this house exactly what they needed. And right now they needed a designer.

“Iron Bull? Why has nothing been done to the interior?”

Bull looked around what would one day become the kitchen area. He was right. They had done the demolition work and hauled out the refuse, but then it had all just…stopped.  Bull had made several excuses about focusing on the exterior and waiting for the right supplies but in reality, he had just been waiting for Dorian to come back to the job.

Bull had never thought about replacing Dorian for the contract. The moment Bull had first seen his design work for other projects he knew he wanted the Tevinter man for the house. But after what happened to put him the hospital, and the wrist cast that had put his business on pause for a short time, Dorian had seemed to back away from working with the Chargers. Bull guessed he could understand it, seeing as it was because of the project that Bull and Krem had seen him at his absolute worst.

“We didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Excuse me?”

Bull shrugged his massive shoulders, feigning a bit of embarrassment. “Give us exteriors and I can give you all sorts of ideas about brickwork, and Dalish will create a stunning garden, and Krem knows exactly what kind of siding is needed. But when it comes to the inside? Yeah, we’re all rubbish. Don’t get me wrong, we can execute any idea somebody can come up with, but the actual design shit? Just the worst.”

Dorian looked around in surprise. “You mean, you never found another designer?”

“Nope.”

“Why in the Void not?” Dorian seemed surprised. Bull guessed he couldn’t really blame him, its not as though he and Bull were best buds or anything. Barely acquaintances. But Bull was willing to wait the man out if necessary, to get the designer that he wanted.

“I never got the chance to see your ideas for the space, and I promised I would before making any decisions.”

Dorian stared at him in perplexed shock for several moments and Bull very nearly told him that he didn’t have to if he wanted nothing to do with it, but was cut off when the man demanded a piece of paper. Bull reached into a pocket and pulled out a badly folded napkin from the local coffee shop.

Dorian barely glanced at it before pulling a pen from his own pocket and started jotting down notes.

 

 

 

Six months later. It seemed to go by in a flash, and drag on for an eternity. But the time had finally come, Rilienus would be up in front of a judge to decide how much time he would be spending behind bars for what he did to Dorian. They had been through this already once, for Rilienus to plead his case and listening to the judge pronounce him guilty had been heart wrenching. Dorian knew that Ril had to be punished- therapy had finally convinced him of at least that much- but actually listening to the man tell the court that his lover had been in the wrong caused Dorian’s chest to constrict so badly that the Iron Bull had had to lead him from the room before proceedings had been completed.

And the Iron Bull had been there through all of it. Dorian didn’t know what he had done to deserve a friend like him. Like all of them, really. Krem was done the hall right now, watching out for him without intruding upon his space. The rest of Chargers Renovations were preparing a large dinner at their new headquarters, the big move of everyone’s personal belongings having been finished the day before. Including Dorian’s own. Krem had decided that he didn’t need as large of an office as the Iron Bull had claimed for the two of them on the first floor and chose a smaller space on the second, leaving the large office as a perfect space for Dorian to work out of. And while affiliated with Chargers Renos, he was not an actual employee and no one else would have access to his business in any way. Pavus Interior Design was an entity unto itself.

There was even enough space for him to move in on the second floor, and even with the complete lack of privacy in the mornings when everyone seemed to want to use the bathrooms at the same time, Dorian had never felt so safe and loved then when surrounded by the Iron Bull and the Chargers.

“Oi! Fancy Britches!”

Dorian froze, certain that his mind had finally short circuited from the stress of having to be at court. He turned slowly towards the source of the voice.

Much like the rest of Fereldan, it’s courthouses were drab, dull affairs, decorated in browns and greys as though colour was something that criminals gave up upon incarceration. But the tiny elvehn woman that literally bounced towards him down the hallway was anathema to that way of thinking. Her blond hair was cut badly in a sharp bob, a single streak of hot pink hanging down in front of one eye. Last time he had seen her it had been black, and her girlfriend, Dagna, had been calling her bumblebee.

Her clothing wasn’t any better, a bright band tee for the Red Jennies, strategically ripped to show small flashes of her torso, over mustard yellow plaid leggings and heavy combat boots rounded out her, unfortunately, normal look. Not that it mattered once she jumped into his arms and wrapped her spindly limbs around him, nearly knocking them both to the floor.

“Sera! What-“

“Why didn’t ya call me?!” she exclaimed into his shoulder before leaning back and slapping him on the chest. “I’d’a come runnin’ in a hot minute fer this shite!”

Dorian was speechless for several moments before saying, “After you left, I did not think you would want much more to do with me except to say, ‘I told you so’.”

Sera blushed slightly as she moved to stand back on her own two feet, then slapped Dorian again. This was becoming a habit. “Ya, well, I did, did’n I? An’ I know I ain’t been the best friend ever, Fancy Britches, but when that bloke of yours called I could’n say no, now could I?”

“My bloke?” Dorian panicked for a moment, wondering how Rilienus had found the little elf and what he might have done to her when she explained.

“Yeah, the Iron Bull.”

Dorian was shocked. “The...Iron Bull…called you? How did he even know about you?”

“yeah, well, he’s in my yoga class. Says he recognized me from some pic in yer office and told me to come find ya.”

“The Iron Bul. Does yoga.” And that signaled the end of Dorian’s ability to keep from laughing. And once he started he couldn’t stop, even when the laughter became tears and he was clinging to the little elvehn woman as though she would disappear once again if he didn’t.

 

 

Rilienus got five years. It was a stupidly light sentence for what he did but without any kind of previous record the judge wasn’t willing to give the maximum. Dorian’s accounts were finally freed up and he had access to all of the rest of his possessions. In a few days he would be meeting with a real estate agent to see about selling the house. The judge had authorized the sale, half of the proceeds going into an account for when Rilienus was released. It sucked, but Dorian wanted nothing to do with the place and Ril couldn’t keep up with the taxes from prison.

Krem drove Dorian and Sera back to the house. Dorian was glad the man had insisted on driving him out to court that morning, he didn’t think he could grip the steering wheel properly with how badly his hands were shaking. Sera was talking a mile a minute, as she usually did, but even she couldn’t hold his focus at that moment.

Something Dorian hadn’t realized until the moment that the judge dismissed the courtroom; Dorian was free. Oh, he would still have therapy for quite some time, and it would be even longer before Dorian thought he’d be able to trust someone else with what remained of his heart, but his torture at the hands of Rilienus was over. Well and truly over.

But in the chaos that had been the final days of their time together, there was one thing that Dorian would never regret. They were pulling up to the house and the new friends he had made were standing out on the wrap around porch, cheering for him as he stepped from the vehicle, the Iron Bull loudest of all.

Well, he’s a Qunari, of course he was loud.

Dorian smiled, his heart filling with warmth, a matching softness in his eyes. He nodded, the Iron Bull returning it with a smile to mirror his own. Maker’s Blessing, it’s true. He wouldn’t give this up for the world.


End file.
